“All right,” said Jimmy. “Just as you like.”
After a long silence, Ronny said:
“What’s she like?”
“Who?”
“This girl. Gerry’s sister.”
Jimmy was silent for some minutes, then he said in a voice that had somehow or other altered:
“She’s all right. In fact—well, she’s a corker.”
“Gerry was very devoted to her, I knew. He often spoke of her.”
“She was very devoted to Gerry. It—it’s going to hit her hard.”
“Yes, a nasty job.”
They were silent till they reached Deane Priory.
Miss Loraine, the maid told them, was in the garden. Unless they wanted to see Mrs. Coker—
Jimmy was eloquent that they did not want to see Mrs. Coker.
“Who’s Mrs. Coker?” asked Ronny as they went round into the somewhat neglected garden.
“The old trout who lives with Loraine.”
They had stepped out into a paved walk. At the end of it was a girl with two black spaniels. A small girl, very fair, dressed in shabby old tweeds. Not at all the girl that Ronny had expected to see. Not, in fact, Jimmy’s usual type.